I could hear them talking and laughing in the living room. Two male voices and one feminine. I sat perched on the bed naked and waiting patiently for him. When he had brought me into his room earlier he gave me the order to strip and stay seated on the bed until he told me otherwise. That had been some time ago.

Now there were the voices talking with him on the other side of the door. I didn't recognize them, but listened to the low murmur trying to make out what they said. I heard the female say something in a reassuring tone, then chuckling in a slightly evil way.

The talking stopped and I heard someone approach the bedroom door. The room was darkened, but I recognized his silhouette when he opened the door before he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.
He didn’t say anything as he approached the bed. In the darkness I saw his shadowy arm reach forward to put my blindfold on. My body relaxed when I felt his fingers brush over my cheek while he tightened the blindfold’s strap. ...

Red Snapper

2 red snapper fillets
½ cup firmly packed parsley
1 clove of garlic
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons parmesan cheese
Juice of 1 lemon
2 lemon wedges

Preheat the broiler. Put the parsley, garlic, and cheese in a blender. Blend until smooth. Add lemon juice. Gradually add the oil and blend until smooth. Brush both sides of the fish with the mixture. Lightly oil the broiler pan. Place the fillets on the pan and broil for eight to ten minutes or until opaque. Garnish with lemon wedges.

Face Off

The man sits on the bed with his legs spread open and his hands supporting his weight behind him. The woman sits on his lap facing him. She places her hands on his knees and her feet against his hips. Then the woman lifts her bottom and lowers herself on the man’s shaft. She can thrust up and down, and side to side for a little variation. She or he can stimulate her clitoris for extra pleasure.

"The long awaited experiment has finally begun. My wife is going to be my own personal sex-slave for 30 days!

My brain has been on overdrive for some time now, making wicked plans...

Nothing interesting to tell yet, so I thought I'd dig into my old posts and find the set of rules I concocted some time ago she has to obey .

1. You will shave your pussy and ass, as often as possible. When I say shaved I mean totally shaved – not even your little patch will be allowed to remain.
2. You may not wear a bra at home, unless I tell you to. I want access to those slutty nipples whenever I feel like it.
3. You will accept any assignment I give you during the course of the experiment. ....."

Her husband was fucking my wife and almost as a matter of etiquette, I started fucking her.

This was a big girl, maybe pretty, and I’d stood up for awhile to better watch and she rose to her knees and began to suck me.

My wife and I weren’t swingers but this was at a swingers party and there were mattresses on the floor of a room and all around us people were fucking and sucking in pairs or small groups. My wife and I figured we’d pretty much do everything at least once and this was the second time but the first had been pretty mild.

Now it was full blown and she’d started with the woman but the man had worked his way in, fingering her while she continued to lick his wife’s inner thighs. They were big thighs, the kind you have to push apart with your hands if you mean to really fit your face in there, and her belly hung down, and why my wife had started things up with them, I wasn’t sure.

PARIS, June 19 - An erotic novel written under a pseudonym might normally struggle to find a mainstream publisher and a wide readership. Not so, it seems, when it is penned by a Muslim woman living in a traditional Arab society. "The Almond," a semi-autobiographical exploration of sexual freedom, has sold 50,000 copies in France since Éditions Plon brought it out here last year. And it has now appeared in eight other languages, including English.
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With its explicit descriptions of lovemaking, the book has been compared to Marguerite Duras's coming-of-age novel, "The Lover," and to Catherine Millet's more recent confessional essay, "The Sexual Life of Catherine M." Yet in this case the feisty 40-something North African author who goes by the name of Nedjma appears to have been motivated by more than a desire to titillate.

Rather, she explained in a recent conversation here to coincide with Grove Press's publication of the novel in the United States this month, by portraying a woman enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, she wanted both to celebrate the body as an expression of life and to strike a blow against the centuries-old repression of Muslim women.

I miss my collar. I miss the feel of leather and metal against my wrists, my ankles. I miss being tied so tightly that I cannot move even if I really, really struggled. I miss the kiss of the flogger, the sting of a spanking, the warm throbbing sensation between my thighs as my body and my mind process all these sensations. I even miss the wicked wooden paddle that hangs on the back of my bedroom door, though I'll deny it should anyone - ahem - ask. :)

I also miss the release that comes from being rebellious, a little bratty and fractious, and being overwhelmed and brought back into line by my lover. It is a release of stress and built-up angst, just as powerful as orgasm or the endorphin rush that comes from a good spanking or paddling. Just as critical to my psyche, as well. Without that release, the brattiness just builds and builds until I could go whole-temper-tantrum on my life. Being taken in hand, put back into line, restores a balance in my own life and in our relationship together that I know we both need, very much.

I cannot wait until we have the time for me to spend at least a chunk of a weekend in collar, tucked safe and secure in my lover's control.

But for now, I will just savor my cravings. Hunger just makes the meal taste sweeter.

Dude, on Saturday, Neal's going to call. And you know what Neal wants to do. He wants to go to the strip joint.

This message is to tell you do not go to the strip joint with Neal.

And whatever you do, do not get drunk before you don't go to the strip club with Neal.

Because you know how you get when you walk into the strip joint and your alcohol-soaked brain gets filled up with that perfume and music and thongs and those boots. For starters, you get that look in your eyes -- you know, that glazed-over, fattened tongue, "Man, I haven't so much as touched a girl in a month" thing you do. And the strippers can spot that a mile away...

IN the pleasure-room, decorated with flowers, and fragrant with perfumes, attended by his friends and servants, the citizen should receive the woman, who will come bathed and dressed, and will invite her to take refreshment and to drink freely. He should then seat her on his left side, and holding her hair, and touching also the end and knot of her garment, he should gently embrace her with his right arm. They should then carry on an amusing conversation on various subjects, and may also talk suggestively of things which would be considered as coarse, or not to be mentioned generally in society. They may then sing, either with or without gesticulations, and play on musical instruments, talk about the arts, and persuade each other to drink. At last when the woman is overcome with love and desire, the citizen should dismiss the people that may be with him, giving them flowers, ointments, and betel leaves, and then when the two are left alone, they should proceed as has been already described in the previous chapters.

Such is the beginning of sexual union. At the end of the congress, the lovers with modesty, and not looking at each other, should go separately to the washing-room. After this, sitting in their own places, they should eat some betel leaves, and the citizen should apply with his own hand to the body of the woman some pure sandal wood ointment, or ointment of some other kind. He should then embrace her with his left arm, and with agreeable words should cause her to drink from a cup held in his own hand, or he may give her water to drink. They can then eat sweetmeats, or anything else, according to their likings and may drink fresh juice,1 soup, gruel, extracts of meat, sherbet, the juice of mango fruits, the extract of the juice of the citron tree mixed with sugar, or anything that may be liked in different countries, and known to be sweet, soft, and pure. The lovers may also sit on the terrace of the palace or house, and enjoy the moonlight, and carry on an agreeable conversation. At this time, too, while the woman lies in his lap, with her face towards the moon, the citizen should show her the different planets, the morning star, the polar star, and the seven Rishis, or Great Bear.

The perfect spanking begins in the morning, perhaps over espresso, when my beloved says, "I think I'll spank you tonight." Or, maybe he says, "You are in sooo much trouble! Just wait until tonight!" or maybe, "Need a little play time tonight, Hmm?"

Or maybe he says, "I'm going to take you six ways to Sunday; you're going to be so sore you’ll barely be able to walk, and there's nothing you can do about it!"...

Either way, the tingly rush of anticipation begins; the one that actually starts in my bottom, then crawls up my spine to my scalp and makes me feel like the hairs on my head are standing up. I blush a little, wanting to ask for details. But he won't give me any – I know this from experience, so I won't ask.

With every point I expressed that ran counter to a view she held, she removed one article of clothing. Soon she sat on my couch naked, gently pulling at her untrimmed pubic hair, staring intently but not quite invitingly at me. The growing hard lump in my throat was just outpaced by the one in my pants. I was a little nervous because we had agreed on the last two points—the need to reconsider the option of nuclear energy, and drilling in the Arctic—and I noticed her oversized nipples were no longer hard. Luckily, she was, by this point, determined.
‘What do you think,’ she began provocatively, ‘of the President’s plan to privatize Social Security?’
I sighed with relief; this was as sure a promise to seal the deal as her asking if I had a condom.
‘I think it’s a payoff to the Americans the President has always been most intent on pleasing: the richest 1%.’
‘What do you mean?’ she cooed. I noticed her nipples hardening once more. She dropped to her knees in front of me. She pushed me backwards and positioned my legs up in the air.
‘A stock’s value is even now only partially tied to the actual value of any publicly traded company. But who’s going to profit from inflated valuations when stock prices swell irrationally from the forced, artificial injection of capital?
Her breath was hot on my ‘taint as she lifted my scrotum. ‘Yes? Yes?’

In mock serious tones, I told her that she had to do exactly what I told her to do….no explanations, no debating. Kissing her firmly on the lips, I abruptly got up and walked out of the room to grab a parcel from the hotel where we stayed last night. In it was a small complementary guest kit, which included a pair of sleep shades. I opened the box and walked to T. She was already squirming as I gently put the sleep shades over her eyes. She could not move, she could not see what was going to happen to her. All she could do was relinquish all control and take whatever I gave.

"I stood at the door, my hand still on the doorknob as if my brain hadn’t quite decided that my body was staying, and watched as one by one Prince shut off all the lights in the house and locked the doors. In my head my rational self was screaming hysterically at my common sense self: What in God’s sweet name do you think you are doing out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, in a strange man’s house, asking him to tie you up and fuck you?! But just south of my brain my heart and pussy were purring loudly like a cat who just glimpsed her master reaching for the can opener...."

"I disregard the proportions, the measures, the tempo of the ordinary world. I refuse to live in the ordinary world as ordinary women. To enter ordinary relationships. I want ecstasy. I am a neurotic -- in the sense that I live in my world. I will not adjust myself to the world. I am adjusted to myself."